


Drinks.

by starsheartsandiron



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Self-Indulgent, Substance Abuse, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 20:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsheartsandiron/pseuds/starsheartsandiron
Summary: "Sleep was a waste of time.Tony didn’t have time for that, not when there were things to build and fun to be had.Tequila wasn’t fun."Tony categorizes everything. Knows exactly what bottle he wants and what each would give him.





	Drinks.

**Author's Note:**

> A self-indulgent/reflective piece aka projecting more than I should on Tony and also tmi I suppose

Coffee. A given. _Cream and sugar_ if they hadn’t run out of cream yet. But the benefits of warm coffee outweighed his own preferences and he’d settle for black if it meant at least tasting the dark bitter liquid would chase away sleep. If he could feel his eyes growing heavy it meant that he’d waited too long between cups and that was _unacceptable._ Steve and Bruce were partial to Dark roast and a part of him hated them for it. It had the least amount of caffeine and it became harder to easily down black. Whenever he could get his hands on blonde roast it was like Christmas. It meant that he could have far fewer cups in a day and achieve the same kind of alertness. That was the deal, right? Having less coffee in a day was _good_ right?

If he was in a particular mood where he would avoid sleep like it was the worst thing to happen he’d crack open an energy drink. He thought it elevated his creativity, provided him with a hint of motivation alongside the much-needed caffeine to keep his focus down in the depths of his lab. Tony wasn’t _dumb,_ he knew one can in a 24-hour period was enough. You make the mistake one time and never again. One time vomiting your guts out all day was **_more_** than enough. Just one can. Just one can and one cup of coffee…okay maybe two cups…

Is three too much?

Are the circles under his eyes too much?

_You should get some sleep, you’ve got time tomorrow to finish._

Sleep was a waste of time.

Tony didn’t have time for that, not when there were things to build and fun to be had.

Tequila wasn’t fun.

Not for Tony, he’d watched the others get _fun_ slamming back shots and barking laughter whenever someone choked. But there wasn’t any fun there for him. It made his eyes water and throat _burn._ And the inevitable dribbling’s of spit was not worth his time. There were few places he’d saviour the idea of a soaking mouth and shots with the team was not one of them. Not even worth adding to the list. 

Rum however, rum was easy. Casual even. There were no numbing qualities, it didn’t make the world float away like he would have liked it too. He was still functioning on an average level and could slip it into almost anything ‘ _not a good idea, there’s a good way and a bad way to do this and that is a bad one Tony’_ he’d remind himself, but the lingering chemical taste, the bite of bitter alcohol mixed into something it _shouldn’t be mixed into_ was a good distraction even though there were none of the effects he actually craved. Bottom of the list for sure, not something to put in coffee.

Whiskey on the other hand.

Whiskey was warm. _Especially_ spiced whiskey. Coppery liquid to mix into coffee or _dark_ tea. Two birds with one stone he’d convince himself - caffeine _and_ bitter freedom. Warm and welcoming like a hug he’d never receive. And if he was desperate enough, if he’d been _lonely_ enough, the hot taste of cinnamon whiskey could be choked down on its own to give him that comfortable feeling. And all would be fine again because he’d find himself leaning towards a calming, blissful happiness for the night.

He’d learned that if you carried your coffee in a travel mug no one would suspect a thing. There would be no lingering smell seeping from the rim to catch him off guard at Avengers team meetings. He could safely be consumed by the energy and comfort the coffee provided in a room of people that _shouldn’t_ be strangers.

Beer, beer and cider were dangerous. Not dangerous in the way whiskey could be, but because it was too much of a reminder of what he was doing. What he was doing to _himself._ It was too bitter. Too much of a _smell_ and it reminded him _way_ too much of the sharp smell of vomiting vodka up after a night of ‘fun’ drinking. And if it reminded him of Howard, well, he would never admit it.

He’d choke down the disgust when he could smell it on Steve, or taste it on his lips. Pretend it wasn’t there, waiting until the kisses would wipe it away. Drown out the image of Howard’s own hands nursing bottle, after bottle, _after bottle…_

Tony wondered how people could casually drink the stuff. _Men_ he scoffed. Most of the team could be caught at the end of the day nursing a deep brown bottle or shining can, but never him. Never Tony. Guess it helped him hide the problem if they never saw how far he took _casual._

Wine was _fancy_ and it was easy to go unnoticed. Reminded him of his mother before she too gave it up, stopped allowing herself the simple luxury because of _him._ She couldn’t stop Howard from going out and getting his own, but she could make it at least a little harder by not providing the stuff. _Even if it wasn’t even anything he drank_ Tony thought with a scowl.  

It was easy to hide how quickly he’d finish a bottle. Having a glass of wine didn’t raise any eyebrows at movie nights. A _cocktail_ however, there was too much effort in that. Too much of a neon sign that blinked ‘I want to drink!’. They had their beer and he had his wine – _and then some._

The hypocrisy of that made Tony laugh.

Now, vodka was confusing, not as easily explained as tequila or rum. The bottle and shot glass tucked away in his closet was for when he needed to slip away.  Drift out of reality, and allow himself to _not_ be himself. Sometimes that meant one shot after another until his body buzzed and his hands shook, he could lay down and bask in the easy constant of the tingling nerves until he fell into a deep sleep.

Other times it meant two quick shots to achieve some of that _nice_ tingling before he could entertain himself with tools in the lab, or _porn –_ and each shot afterwards was just enough to keep the tingling there for the rest of the evening.

And if he was honest with himself, the shots made an empty evening more _fun._ He could get into a long session of feeling himself out, thinking of Steve’s warm mouth and body pressed close. Could hold his phone and allow himself to be as much of a _tease_ as he wanted, getting more into the sweet arousal that came with every exasperated reply he got from Steve. Another shot and he’d become more open, another shot and the pictures would become lewder. If he was lucky Steve would return and fuck him senseless.

Most nights he wasn’t lucky. Most nights he would fall back to just wanting to drift out of reality again until sleep would take him.

The bottles in the kitchen were for _fun._ Nights of entertainment and celebration among friends and colleagues. Dumb, drunk, and slipping off the couch in a fit of laughter every time Natasha beats a wavering Clint in Wii Sports. His favourite vodka nights were when _everyone_ was rapidly getting buzzed like they were depraved college students with nothing but the rest of their lives ahead of them, dancing and shouting lyrics to the sky.

Slutty vodka Tony was _good._ Good to _everyone_ and if Steve wasn’t there to reel him in he wondered how many of his friends he’d have seen naked. But it _always_ came back to Steve drunkenly overpowering him and they’d have clumsy explosive sex.

Vodka was an enigma because it promised all sorts of things and he’d never be certain what the burning liquid would deliver. At the very least Tony had that surprise to look forward to.


End file.
